One Night as a King
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: It is a difficult matter to be a king. A king's life is surely filled with troubles, especially for one who never thought he would rule. But can even a king forget those troubles for just one night? For the new king of Ylisse, this is such a night.


**A/N: **Well, Awakening called my name once again, and I decided to put out this little tale. It's taken some time to write and then revise, but I think I've got it where I want it to be. I hope you enjoy it. I'd hate to put this much into it and then have you all hate it. It's pretty long for a one-shot, as you can see, but I hope it won't be a problem. I took the title from the movie _One Night with the King_, which my family happened to be watching, and I thought the title really fit the situation.

A big shout out goes to Rexnos for being my beta on this piece.

* * *

**One Night as a King**

The nation of Ylisse was in high spirits that night, just as it had been the previous day and night. A great merriment had fallen upon the land and its people, despite the loss of their former Exalt. Though Emmeryn had only been dead for the count of ten days, her successor, her own brother had not only been crowned but wedded as well, and these were grand occasions to be certain. And so, in the great hall of his palace, the celebration had continued.

The great hall was filled as people from every corner of the nation had come to wish their king well. Lords and ladies sat around the many long tables upon each side, while the comrades that Chrom had gained over the war sat at his table at the very back of the grand chamber. In the middle of the room, musicians played loudly and joyously with the lute, the lyre, the cymbal, and the flute. Among them, the court fools danced and entertained, often mimicking and mocking the ceremony of marriage, to the amusement of the guests. Servants darted about the tables, eager to fill an empty goblet or plate. The feast itself was truly fit for a king, with slices of roasted meat, of fatted veal and lamb and pork, of sharp cheeses and light delicate pastries served among all who had attended. All who attended ate their fill, and then much more.

The feast had gone on and on, since the fading gold of evening had settled upon the land. It was now, surely, the early hours of the night, though Chrom could not be certain of the exact hour. All he knew was that he did not find the occasions merry in the least, though he had tried to rejoice along with his people.

It was in the midst of these festivities that Queen Sumia rose from her chair. She gave no command for the many guests to be silent, though as she began to take her leave, they fell silent nevertheless, expecting some words of parting from their queen, though she had not thought to give any. Chrom quickly wished that he was not in his own castle but away in the countryside as he felt every eye lingering upon him and his wife. He could only wonder what thoughts might occupy Sumia's mind, though he imagined that she did not welcome the attention as she slowly pushed her chair back in and walked around the table. Her heeled shoes clicked loudly on the floors, and each sound and echo only seemed to make the heed of the attendees all the more weighty.

Her departure came as no surprise to Chrom, for he had been instructed in the traditions and customs of this very occasion only that afternoon. The wife of the king was required to leave the feast and make herself ready for his coming that night.

Chrom watched her intently as she crossed the banquet hall. Even now, he found Sumia stunning in her grand gown of white. Silver threads coiled and turned in ornate patterns upon the bodice and the skirt. Upon her head, a silver crown rested as well as a flowing veil of lace, and it seemed to dance with every step. When he had first seen her to take their vows, Chrom could hardly believe that she was the same woman he had known and fought alongside. He supposed, however, that it would take a good deal of time for him to grow accustomed to Sumia as his queen.

When she was in the middle of the room, Sumia turned back to look at her husband. Her eyes were warm and loving, and her smile was gentle, as though she were the happiest woman that had ever lived. Their union, unlike many experienced by those born to status, was not one of arrangement. Chrom returned her smile, yet, as their eyes met, she stumbled. Chrom leaned forward, wishing to run to her side and keep her from falling, but Sumia managed to steady herself.

Chrom noticed a tint of red in her cheeks before she turned her face away. She looked towards each table and the many nobles seated at them. If the attendees found her amusing, even in the slightest, they did not show it. Instead, they merely looked upon her without expression. From where he sat, Chrom knew their eyes keenly inspected her, as if they wondered whether a woman such as she could truly be their queen. Sumia seemed to grow smaller under their gaze, as if she, too, questioned her worthiness of such a title.

And then, with a quickened pace, Sumia was gone. Chrom watched until she had slipped through the doors of the great hall. She did not even wait for the servants to fully open the doors.

Silence persisted for only a few moments as the musicians and fools again employed their trades and the feast continued. A servant came to replace Chrom's empty plate, though he did not wish to eat even the smallest bite. As he idly picked at his food, he could not help but notice the lords, and even the ladies, whispering to one another and sharing many a suggestive glance at the door of the great hall. Some of the men even nudged their peers as they did so, and Chrom had little doubt that they exchanged especially lewd remarks concerning his wife. He could not help but take offense at their actions, though he could not take measure against them. Still, he wished that they would not regard his new wife in the manner in which other men might regard a dancer on the street.

A lord whom Chrom had met but did not know suddenly stood with his goblet in hand, and the room again fell silent. "Let us drink to our new Exalt, and also to his new queen. May their rule, and all of Ylisse, prosper." A chorus of assent rose up from each table, and every guest did likewise. Chrom, however, grudgingly raised his goblet to his lips. Though he did not show it, he enjoyed neither the taste of wine nor the words given in his honor, for they were the very same words he had heard time and time again since the feast began.

The Exalt discreetly shifted in his seat. He not only disliked the wine, but his royal raiment felt constricting against his body, and his oaken chair pressed without yield into his back. When Sumia had excused herself, he had wished to do the same, yet he was bound by his duty as king to remain. He had learned that very thing only yesterday when he had tried to leave his coronation feast early to the shock of his tutors and his guests, and so he labored to maintain a cheerful face. Still, as Chrom again observed the merrymaking before his eyes, he found himself growing rather bored of it.

He was but a single day into his youthful reign, and already he found his station a great burden, as if he had held it for more years than he had lived. While he had often attended other such feasts for the sake of his sister, he had disliked them even then. Now that it was he to whom the feasts were given, they felt all the more oppressive. Instead of the fine meats, cheeses, and wines, his tongue desired the hard traveling bread, wild game, and mild wine of his old life.

Of course, this was but the second feast he had attended in only mere days. When the Shepherds and what soldiers remained had returned to their homeland in a great but sober victory against King Gangrel of Plegia, preparations had been made nearly at once for Chrom to be crowned king. The people had taken time to mourn the loss of Emmeryn, for she had been dearly loved, yet Chrom had been hurried from tutor to tutor so that he might learn his new duties. The many lessons had seemed as a fierce battle to the prince, and though he had fought many enemies and saw victory in his days among the Shepherds, Chrom found himself unable to defeat them. He was taught courtly manners, the laws and customs of Ylisse, and how he should judge the affairs of his people. All those days, Chrom had wished for the familiar; the tent, the countryside, and the sword. After only seven days, his lessons ceased only briefly, for the lords did not think it wise to leave Ylisse without her king any longer.

The previous day, he had been named Exalt, and he, his knights, and his people both high and low had celebrated long into the night. Shortly after that feast began, he had stood before all who had gathered and had given his first proclamation. Before the whole of the capital, he had announced that Sumia should be his wife and queen, and all of Ylisse had wished their union well.

And so, they had been married earlier that very day, in a ceremony of equal if not greater magnificence than that of his coronation. Now, Chrom sat again in his great hall, enduring the toasts, speeches, and well-wishes of his nobles and his people.

Though the thoughts of his wedding brought his heart happiness, Chrom found his desire to take his own leave growing stronger and stronger by the moment. The past week had wearied him, and he did not know if he could manage to remain much longer, even as his guests did not seem to give any thought to their own departure. He did not know the hour, but he was certain he had indulged them long enough. He rose and called for silence, and indeed, the great hall fell quiet.

"My lords and ladies," he began, hoping that he sounded as a king should. "You have my thanks for your presence at these two great occasions. Your wishes for health and well-being upon me these past two days are a comfort to me. But the night wanes and, I regret to announce that the feast is over. So, I bid all of you farewell."

Then he followed in the footsteps of his wife without so much as another word or even a second glance. He imagined that the nobles again whispered among themselves and some likely nudged their peers as they thought of their king going to meet his bride, though he did not bother to see for himself. His only thought and care at this time was to leave.

* * *

When the servants shut the doors behind him and the sights and sounds of the feast were hidden from him, Chrom allowed himself a moment to sigh in gratitude that he had survived the past two nights. Though he had not gone far from the great hall, the king leaned heavily against the wall. His body eased and he slowly began to side down with a weariness he could not describe pressing upon his shoulders until he was sitting with his legs extended before him.

"Gods," he whispered as he felt the hardened floor meet him, unable to let his true thoughts remain unspoken, "how did Emm stand it?" He found the floor a strange comfort to him, for it brought to mind the hardened ground on which he had often slept in his travels. However, he quickly rose and straightened, knowing that his posture was not befitting a king. His many tutors had told him of how he should be seen by his people, and they had given him no compromise in that regard.

Were it any other night, Chrom might have thought to lay himself down to sleep, but he soon recalled the reason for his departure. Thoughts of Sumia again danced in his mind, and they pleased him, though he was wearied from his royal obligations. He began to walk down the hall towards one of the many stairways of the palace and found himself growing restless along the way. He felt a mixture of both excitement and yet also a strange fear at the thought of what was to follow.

He knew not why he should feel fear, but as he thought of what his tutors had spoken of concerning the wedding night, it seemed to linger. Only that afternoon, they had spoke to their lord concerning his marriage. They had said that this night should result in the production of an heir, and then Chrom would no longer need to trouble himself with his wife. They had made no mention of love, and they had disregarded the notion when he had spoke of it. To his tutors, this night was merely a duty which he was required to perform. Such a thought seemed sad to Chrom, and try as he might to dismiss it, it held fast to him.

When he had reached the stairs, Chrom heard the sound of approaching steps echoing through the corridor. At first, he thought it only to be the steps of one of the palace guards on his watch, but he found that it was instead Frederick, coming to greet him. The knight stopped as he drew near and bowed before his ruler. Chrom could not help but wonder if he had waited in this hall to meet him, or if their meeting was only owed to chance.

"Your Majesty," Frederick began, before straightening, "Has the feast ended or have you only stepped out for a moment?" Chrom cringed at the formal address from his knight. The new title sounded foreign to his ears, especially from the man who had only days ago been but a comrade upon the field of battle. While Chrom had been above Frederick even then, such proper greetings were never exchanged. However, he supposed that he would simply need to accept them.

"The feast has officially ended," the king replied, "but I don't think the guests have any intention of leaving, at least not any time soon. As long as they still have food and wine, they'll probably stay all night."

"Then I shall see to it that they leave at once," said Frederick. "Rest assured, Your Majesty, I will not have the great hall become the site of a wild, drunken brawl between the lords."

"I'm sure you won't," Chrom answered, feeling his weariness return at the thought of his knight forcing an end to the festivities.

"Before I begin my task, please tell me. Was the food to your liking? I oversaw the cooks personally to ensure the food was of the highest quality and that none of the cooks dared to slip poison into it."

"Oh, you still worry too much, Frederick," Chrom said with a shake of his head. "My enemies are on the battlefield, not in the kitchens."

"With all due respect, milord, as the Exalt, you have enemies even within our own borders. You are not safe even inside this house. It is my duty to keep you from harm, and I must beg Your Majesty's pardon for leaving your side so often during the feast. I would not have done so, except for good reason and that the other guards kept watch over you in my stead."

Chrom sighed heavily at the dire warning. He did not wish to be reminded of the dangers of his post, for his many lessons still swam through his head as though they were a great number of fish in a river that could only hold a few. At his silence, Frederick again begged the pardon of his king.

"I hope you will forgive me for leaving your side, Your Majesty," his knight said. "On the next occasion, I shall not fail to watch over you and ensure your safety."

"You don't need to beg my pardon," Chrom answered, raising his hand to bid for silence. "I know you had your reasons. And you don't need to stand behind me at all times. If you have a reason to leave my side, then please do so."

"Thank you, milord," said Frederick. "If it will please you, I will tell you what I did. I was inspecting the sentries I had posted around the palace. After the attempt on your sister's life, I thought it best to see that they were alert at their posts. I failed to protect her, but I swear to you that I will not let my failure occur again."

Chrom did not answer. Instead, he turned his face away at the mention of that night when the forces of Plegia had entered the palace with the intent to bring Emmeryn's life to an end. Though they had not succeeded, it pained him to think that she had not even known safety in her own house, and at once, the truth of Frederick's warning felt as iron weights upon his shoulders. The king nodded slowly, hoping to banish the feelings and memories still too fresh in his mind; the remembrance of that night and his sister's untimely doom stung him bitterly, like the sharp cut of a blade. Chrom did not wish to dwell on such heavy and saddening thoughts, for this was his wedding night.

"Well," the king answered at length, bringing his eyes to meet the eyes of his knight, "you have my thanks then. Carry on, Frederick. I believe you have earned a night with your wife as well, so after you finish, I give you leave to go to Sully." He often wondered how the man known to all as Frederick the Wary could have married a woman such as she, for they were as alike as summer and winter. He did not press the matter, however, for he did not see fit to do so.

He strode past his knight and began to climb the stairs. He had not gone far when he heard Frederick call out to him. Chrom stopped where he stood, wondering what matter his faithful deputy would have to bring before him. "I presume that you are going to your bedchamber," said Frederick.

"Yes," Chrom replied, pausing with his back still turned to the his knight. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought you should know that I took the liberty of making preparations for you and Queen Sumia for your wedding night."

The king of Ylisse felt his back grow stiff at the words he had just heard. He recalled the many things Frederick had done for him during their treks across the land, and a new sense of fear entered his mind as he wondered what sort of preparations his knight saw fit to take. He turned around, slowly, and descended the stairs until he again looked Frederick in the eyes. Chrom knew the question he must ask, if only to put him at ease, and yet, he dreaded to ask it.

"What sort of preparations?" asked Chrom, once he had found his voice.

"I ensured that the bed was made with the finest satin sheets we had, I had the candles placed and lit, and I also started a fire, so that you and the queen would not catch cold tonight, given your likely...state of dress." Chrom could only groan, for it was in the midst of spring, and the air was quite mild. Frederick continued, taking little notice of his king's displeasure. "I also had the rugs removed from the halls near yours and the queen's chambers as well, so that neither of you would fall on the way." Chrom felt a sense of relief, and he nodded. Though he knew these things were unnecessary, he also took comfort in knowing that it was the worst of things Frederick could have done.

"Was that all?" Chrom asked quickly.

"No, milord," Frederick answered.

"What did you do?" the king managed to say, rubbing his brow as he spoke and at once he wished he had not, for he had spoken only out of his fatigue.

"On one occasion while you were attending the feast, I went into the city after attending to the sentries. I knew of a merchant who deals in potions and other remedies made from plants and herbs. I made sure to explain the reason for my visit, and she was most helpful. I took the liberty of purchasing several ointments and perfumes that I was told have a rather stirring effect. I had them placed in Queen Sumia's chambers. I've also noticed that you've been under a great deal of strain of late, and I worried that you might be too weary for this night. So I also purchased a number of potions that I was told are of great help to men. I had them sent to your quarters should the need arise."

Chrom felt his cheeks redden at thought, and a bead of sweat formed on his brow, though the heat of his face soon chilled as the color faded from his face. "Oh gods, you didn't" he said, hiding his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Are you unwell, milord?" Frederick asked, taking note of his lord's discomfort. "Shall I go to Queen Sumia and tell her?"

"No, no, just please tell me that was all."

"It was. I had thought to post a guard outside your chamber to ensure that you and the queen would not be bothered while you..." he paused, as if he was unsure of what he should say and how he should say it, "that is during your...consummation."

Chrom felt his face grow hot once more, with a heat that felt as a scorching sun above the dry earth, but as quickly as it rose, the heat gave way again to a cold sensation, more bitter than the first. The king's face did not seem to change, for he was far too astounded to even wince. He could scarcely believe the words he had just heard. Just then, Frederick ran to his lord with outstretched hands, and when he took hold of his ruler's shoulders, Chrom waved the hands of his knight away.

"I'm fine, Frederick,"the king firmly declared. Frederick took only a single step back, though he still stood quite near.

"Forgive me, milord, but you looked light-headed. Are you well? Shall I send for a physician. Perhaps I should tell the queen that your wedding night will have to wait."

"No, no," Chrom replied quickly, "I am well."

"As you wish," said Frederick. "In any case, if you wish it, I shall post my guard. I would have done so earlier, but I realized you would want me to ask you first. Shall I do it?"

"Please don't," the king answered in a voice that sounded far harsher than he had intended. He took several quick breaths, hoping to gather his thoughts. Swallowing, he continued. "I thank you for your concern for me, but I'll be just fine, Frederick."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Frederick replied, causing Chrom to wince at the sound of his title. "Since the feast has ended, I shall see to it that the guests do not linger. Shall I arrange an escort to take you to your chambers."

"I'm sure I'll manage, Frederick. I can find my way."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Then I bid you good-night."

Chrom wasted little time in climbing the stairs.

* * *

Not a soul, neither guard nor servant, met Chrom as he walked down the halls to his chambers, and he was glad of it. His thoughts raced as he went along the corridors, and they seemed to be humiliation at one moment and a slight anger in the next. Once more, he found the lack of company pleasing, for it offered him the freedom to speak as he wished. He did not think he could keep his thoughts silent for long, and he began to speak to himself about the doings of Frederick.

"What did he tell that merchant? He thinks about posting a guard outside my room. This is too much even for him. Who does he think he is? For that matter, who does he think I am? I'm no chick that has to be sat on, and he's no mother hen. I looked light-headed, he says. Well, I wonder why. Of all the meddling..." Chrom could hardly think of the word to call the actions of his knight, and he instead only growled in his throat.

"This wasn't what I thought it would be," he stated. While he had never believed that the life of the Exalt was a simple one, he was indeed surprised at what such a life demanded of him. It would not be a lie entirely to say that Chrom felt unwell, for the thought of Frederick's overbearing meddling left an ill taste in his mouth and an ill thought in his mind. Yet, the interfering of his knight was only one of many things that served to remind him that his life was no longer his own. Thoughts of his duties, the pomp, and grandeur of his station, and even the reduction of this night to a mere obligation mingled together in his mind, and Chrom disliked them all.

When Chrom came to the door of his bedchamber, he was greatly relieved to see no sentries standing at attention outside. He had half-expected Frederick to have gone and done it anyway, even without his approval, although he also knew that he was not the sort of man to disobey an order, especially an order from his king.

"If he actually thought that his guards wouldn't bother us, he's not just wary; he's crazy," said Chrom. All at once, the image of two guards pressing their ears to the door appeared before his mind's eye. He found his face reddening once more, and he cringed at the thought. Chrom grunted in disgust and shook his head, hoping to dispel the effects of such a notion. It took him a moment or two, but he managed to clear his head. Then, he opened the door and went inside.

The room was grand to be certain, as one would expect of the Exalt's personal chambers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, and all about the room stood various furnishings carved of dark wood and richly inlaid with gold. The floor was made of tiles of polished stone that shimmered from the light of many candles. Before his eyes, a four-poster bed stood, clothed in satin of the deepest red, and off to his right, Chrom noticed the dancing glow of a warm fire. One table near the door held a silver tray on which were laid the potions Frederick had mentioned. Chrom frowned as he looked upon them but did not discard them, yet.

His bride did not wait for him, but this came as no surprise to Chrom. He had learned earlier that day that it was the custom for the king's wife to take her preparations in her personal quarters with her attendants at her side. He was certain that Lissa, Miriel, and even Cordelia were all poking and prodding at Sumia at this very moment, and he was just as certain that each of them gave her very different counsel as to how she should present herself to her husband.

Once he had shut the door, Chrom strode to the fireplace, for he had no need of the fire. The season was far too warm, no matter what reasoning prompted Frederick to start one, and so he took a little time to put out the flames. The room began to cool as the fire became little more than blackened wood and cold embers, though the room still maintained its warmth for a time. Chrom next pondered what he might do with potions and tonics Frederick had purchased. He did not wish to use them, but he did not know how he might dispose of them. He could not pour them out into the fire, and even if he had not extinguished it, he did not know if the potions would set the palace ablaze. For that matter, he could not have thrown the vials into the fire. He did not wish to entrust them to a servant, thinking he would have to tell of how he came by the vials and for what purpose they were intended. He decided that he would merely hide the tray under the settee that sat before the fireplace and he would give the matter further thought in the morning.

With the fire now dead and the remedies hidden away, Chrom decided to make himself ready for the coming of his queen. He was glad to relieve himself of the constriction of his kingly attire, and he clad himself only in a simple nightshirt and a pair of pants.

Then, he sat down upon the bed to simply gaze at the door and wait.

The room was quiet, so quiet. The few embers that remained of the fire did not even dare to give voice to their dying moments, though they still offered what little heat they could. Even Chrom's breathing made no loud sound inside his bedchamber, and in all truth, he was glad of it. He was glad for this moment of silence and solitude, for it gave him the moment to cool his own frustrations just as he had done the flames. Yet his thoughts made for poor company. With no need to act, Chrom noticed now how truly wearied he was.

The battles that had lead to his crowning were tiresome, even for a man so skilled with the sword as he. His struggles had not ended since, with the days spent in endless lectures and shallow pleasantries with the lords and ladies of his realm. When the nights had fallen, even then he could find no rest as the lessons repeated in his thoughts without end. More than this, Chrom felt the longing grow for the accustomed habits of his earlier life. He wished to again lie within his bedroll under his simple tent. He wished to feel the weight of his sword within his hand. He wished to speak with only his fellows, not to men he knew only by name and title.

The king stifled a yawn as the weariness grew. When he thought again of Sumia, he wished all the more for that simple life among the fields. He wished this night would have come under the reign of Emmeryn instead of his own. Or if he was to rule, he wished that they had been wedded along the road home.

"I could have slipped away from the camp," Chrom said, partially to the air and partially to the woman who was not with him yet. "We could have easily snuck off and had our wedding night the way it should have been." Thoughts of only he and she without the need for such formality as this slipped into his thoughts. Chrom found his head tilting from one side to the other. His eyelids grew heavy in the lingering heat of his chambers. Before his eyes, he thought he saw himself and Sumia dancing together in the countryside.

Then at length, he saw nothing but blackness all around him.

In the shadows, he and Sumia continued to dance, and yet other images danced similarly before him. He saw the day she had first joined the Shepherds, and they first laid eyes upon each other. He watched as she took a step forward to greet him, and she fell over little more than the ground. Almost at once, he saw her now standing alongside him in the midst of battle, never to venture far from him. And then, he saw the two of them standing alone, but he did not know where. Sumia held another of the pies that he had long learned to crave. She was but a step or two from handing it to her lord when she had tripped over something, though he was not certain of what, and the pie had landed on him. Chrom watched as the hot, sticky stream of baked rhubarb inched slowly down his own shirt. Sumia had turned to flee, but before his own eyes, he saw his hand reach out and take her by the arm and with his other hand, he had brushed away the tears that had already begun to form in her bright eyes.

* * *

At once, Chrom awoke to find that he was once more back in his chambers, lying on his back, gazing upwards at the canopy above him. He smiled as he rubbed his drowsy eyes and slowly sat up. While he had not intended to sleep, he was glad of the rest, for it seemed to ease the troubles he had known of recent days.

"She was always taking care of me," he said, softly as the visions of his wife continued to linger. "She always looked out for me. She was always falling too," Chrom added with a slight chuckle, though what remained of his fatigue could not permit him to laugh, "but that's what made it easy to fall in love with her." He began to await Sumia's coming with great excitement, for though the past days had been a heavy weight, this night was only for he and his lady.

As the moments continued in their dutiful passing, Chrom found himself growing impatient. He knew not the hour, but he began to wonder what might have delayed his wife's coming. Were her preparations truly taking so long? He had heard tales of kings and queens of old and their nights together. He recalled that some queens who had devoted many hours to their tasks so that they might appear before their kings with great extravagance. Chrom wondered if Sumia had thought to do the same, and if she had, he began to wonder what she might look like when she entered his chambers.

Would she come to him in a gown that glistened with gold sewn into the cloth? Would she adorn herself with precious jewels, with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, so that she might shine before his eyes? Or perhaps, would she cloth herself in lace as the mage Tharja did, leaving little to imagine? Chrom felt his face grow red once more at the thought of Sumia in such provoking attire. He had never peeked inside her tent as she relieved herself of her armor or even dared to follow her when she followed the other women to a stream to wash. He found himself wondering what she might look like beneath her wedding dress, though he did not wish to indulge himself just yet. Other thoughts concerning her making herself ready then came to mind. Was she bathing? Would she wash herself in sweet-smelling scents of roses or even lavender? Would her hair carry the aromas of the perfumes left for her? Would she color her cheeks or apply other such beauty treatments? Chrom wished to know.

Then he began to wonder if, perhaps, some other matter delayed her. He thought that she might keep herself from him out of worry or fear. Did she think a great deal of this night? Had his tutors spoken to her as they did to him? Did she fear he would not find her favorable? Chrom found it likely, prone as Sumia was to doubt herself.

Chrom had to admit that, even before their return, he had pondered this night. Many times he had considered their first night together as husband and wife, ever since he had offered Sumia a ring and his hand. Each time, he had felt much anxiety as he thought of what their marriage would bring. Yet, he was certain that his worries were of a different sort than the worries that surely plagued his wife. Chrom had often wondered what it might be like as they went from only brother and sister in arms to husband and wife. In camp, they had spoken, dined together, and then retired to their own tents. While other kings and queens treated their marriages in the same manner, Chrom knew he did not wish to do so. Still, he wondered what it might be like to share his bed with another, beyond this night when they should not only share this bed but each other. Would he grow accustomed to her presence as she slept at his side, or would he grow to find his solitude preferable? Chrom did not know, but he found his impatience growing with every thought he considered.

Where could she be?" Chrom asked, this time with his anxiety sounding loudly through his tone. "What's keeping her?" He did not know if he was only eager as a husband or if he only wished to have this night and this duty over and done. All he did know was that he wished she would come.

When he thought he could he could no longer bear the waiting, Chrom heard a light tapping upon his chamber door. He hesitated for a moment, for he did not believe he had truly heard it. When the tapping came again, he thought he felt his own heart cease to beat. In one instant, all the worries and cares he had previously held fell upon him as a deluge. He could not find the words to bid his wife to enter. His thoughts raced, but he managed to still them at length. He took a single, slow breath, and then he took another. He cleared his throat, and then he spoke.

"Come in," Chrom said, for he could only manage those words.

The door opened slowly and carefully. Sumia's face appeared. She did not enter at his bidding, lingering behind the door and allowing only her face to peer around it. Still, as his eyes found hers, Chrom smiled. Though he had carried many worries this night, at the sight of her, Chrom found that he had no need to dwell on the tedium of the feast, the struggles of his post, and even the sorrow and horror of the war. Tonight, he only had need to think of his wife.

When she did not show herself entirely, Chrom again wondered what sort of things she might have done before she came to him. The same images appeared quickly before his eyes; images of a shimmering gown and gemstones flickering in the light, but then they were quickly replaced by other thoughts. Chrom found himself picturing her skin, soft to his touch and pale to his eyes, and her lips, tender and smooth beneath his own, and he found his own face growing red in her presence.

May I enter, my lord?" Sumia asked, quietly and meekly, as she had often been when she stood before him. Chrom wished she had not used a title to address him, but he imagined that she had also been instructed in matters of protocol for a queen on her wedding night. Chrom continued to smile, but he soon found it becoming a rather playful grin.

"Of course, my lady," he said, trying to sound as formal as he did among his courtiers, though his voice did not seem at all kingly. "Enter," he added, finding his distaste for such ceremony returning. He did not think his wife should require his consent to approach him, but owing to the sake of his sister's memory, he would uphold such customs.

As Sumia slowly swung the door open and stepped inside, she did not look at all as Chrom had imagined. She was clothed in a simple bed dress of white, which fit loosely upon her. It was of modest make, nearly reaching to the floor and covering even her arms. The fabric was unadorned with any intricate pattern or design and lacking gold, jewel, or any such thing that would glisten in the light. The same was also true of Sumia, for she wore no precious stone. Even the ring Chrom had given her those weeks ago was absent as was the crown that had previously sat upon her head. Her face held no color, save for that which was her own. Her long hair hung freely, forming a simple veil of silver and violet that would have danced as her wedding veil might have done. Her feet were bare as were his own.

As Chrom looked upon her, his eyes roamed from the top of her head and drew themselves to her feet, for he could see nothing else of her, save for her face and hands. He found them beautiful, and he was certain that he would find the rest of her form beautiful as well. Once again, Chrom found his face turning a bright shade of red and his cheeks growing hot. When he turned his gaze upward to her face, Chrom counted himself glad that she had come to him as she had. He was pleased that she had not adorned herself, as other queens had, for this was not a night that had need of lavish things. She stood before him not as his knight and not as his queen. Tonight, she was simply the woman he loved and the woman he chose to wed. Aside from that, Chrom believed nothing was of greater significance.

"May I approach?" Sumia asked. Her voice was uncertain and even fearful, though Chrom owed this to her nature. Her request, though strange to some, he knew to be part of the custom that she had surely been taught this day. He would have rather hurried to her side and take her in his arms yet he resisted.

"Approach, my queen," he replied with a nod and a hand raised to bid her forward.

Sumia's gaze fell to the floor. Slowly, she took a single step forward. She paused, and then she took another. Again, she waited before taking a third step. Never did her eyes leave the floor, and never did she hasten. Her steps were slow and careful, and Chrom quickly grew weary of watching her. Within his thoughts and his heart, he felt the same impatience he had felt earlier rise. Though other kings would think in such a way, it was not out of a desire to have this night completed that prompted it, but rather it was for his love of his wife that drove him. He wished she would not walk at such a cautious pace, as though she trod upon a field of eggshells instead of the polished floors of their bedchamber.

By now, she had come half the distance, and Chrom found his heart beating faster and faster. His mind lingered on the thought of her in his arms, his lips against hers, and what was to follow. He sat restlessly upon the bed as his anticipation for his wife continued to swell within him, even as her pace seemed to slow. He noticed that he was lifting himself off the edge of the bed, and forced himself to sit back down again. He hoped not to appear too eager, but for a man as he was, newly wedded, Chrom found it difficult.

As Sumia took another step forward, she lifted her head to look upon her husband. Her eyes shone brightly with what seemed to Chrom as a glimmer of pride, and she smiled. Chrom wondered if she shared the same thoughts as he, for her smile was surely one of love,. With her eyes fixed upon him, she again took a step, though now with less care in her stride than before. Her feet did not keep her, upright and though she waved them, her arms did not give her balance. As she always had, she began to fall.

Out of impulse, Chrom ran to his wife with outstretched arms, allowing her to fall into his embrace. As they stood still, he pulled her near and wrapped his arms around her, but to Chrom's surprise, he felt her shoulders tremble, and he thought he could hear the soft sounds of sobbing. Slowly, he guided her to the floor, until they were both upon their knees. He loosened his hold to look upon the face of his wife and he saw tears streaking down her cheeks.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying, Sumia?" Chrom asked, hoping to quiet her but to no avail. His hands, though rough and hardened from his days of battle, cupped her face, and he wiped her tears away with his thumbs, though Sumia continued to weep. Once again, he asked the question. Her voice caught in her throat as she spoke, as she held back another sob.

"I just wanted to make this night perfect for you," Sumia responded, softly and sadly.

"What do you mean perfect for me?" Chrom inquired. When she closed her eyes and looked away, he did not permit it. "Please, tell me," he said gently, as he brought her face back to his,

"I wanted our wedding night to be perfect. When we returned from Plegia, I knew you were going to be busy. All this week, I watched you, and you looked exhausted from your lessons. I knew you had so much to worry about, and I wanted to make sure you didn't worry about tonight, so I wanted it to be perfect."

"What do you mean by perfect?" he asked. In his heart, Chrom now wished he had not been seen in such a wearied state by the woman he loved, and he felt a twinge of guilt at having brought her distress. He continued to brush her tears away as she spoke.

"Well," Sumia began, "First, I wanted to know what a perfect marriage would be like, so I thought I'd read my books to see what they said. I'd just finished reading a tale about a band of heroes who defeated a demon king, and I remembered a chapter in there called The Princess and Her Knight. They fell in love over the course of their wars, and it was so breathtaking when they got married that I knew this was how our wedding should be." Chrom wished to groan or even allow his eyes to roll at her words, for he thought that Sumia spent far too much time reading books of romance, but he did neither for he did not wish to upset her further. She went on.

"I wanted to do the things that the book said so much. The princess and her knight would meet together in the palace gardens, talking about their love and looking into each other's eyes. Then at their wedding feast, they could hardly pay attention to their own guests because they couldn't take their eyes of each other. I tried to do that, but you were so busy that I never could get near you. Then I thought that even if I couldn't be like they were, I could make it easier on you. If I could attend the feast and then do the rest perfectly, it would give you less to worry about. Then when I went to my room to get ready for you, all of your tutors came to me first and told me how important this night would be and everything I would have to do and say. I was scared, Chrom. I was scared I would make things worse for you if I did something wrong. I could get the words right, but I thought it would be perfect if I would walk to you without falling."

"So that's why you took so long," Chrom answered. Sumia nodded, and Chrom thought he saw another tear fall from her eye. He wiped the stray tear from her face as he had done to all the others, and Sumia continued.

"I tried every way I could think of to keep from falling. I tied my hair up, then I let it down, hoping it might balance me better. I tried on all sorts of clothes, some loose, some tighter so I wouldn't step on the hem by accident. I took off all the jewelry I wore earlier so it wouldn't weigh me down. I tried walking in my boots, then shoes, and then slippers, but nothing worked. Every time I stumbled, I tried something different. When I got dressed like I am now, I finally managed to walk without falling, and then I thought I could do the rest right."

"What do you mean, 'do the rest right?'"

"Oh, Chrom, you know I'm a terrible knight. You know I've always put you in danger because I'm so clumsy. You could have died in battle trying to protect me because I'm such a poor knight. If I can't even be a good knight, how could I be a good wife to you or a good queen to Ylisse?" She looked over his shoulder, and when Chrom looked her in the face, he saw Sumia staring with fear upon the bed behind them. "How can I do anything of what's expected of me when I can't even walk? Your tutors told me what you should expect from me, and you know I can't give it to you."

Chrom said nothing. Instead, his thoughts fell upon his tutors, and as he saw them in the eye of his mind, Chrom found himself growing angry. He pondered the words they might have spoken to his wife, and he was certain that they had scolded her for entertaining thoughts of romance. He wished he could send them all from his presence and even the very city itself for bringing such anxiety to the woman he loved. His arms held Sumia as close as he could. Her body still shook, though no tears fell, and with every quiver, his firm grip grew.

"They're wrong," he declared firmly. He took his wife by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. I don't care if you can walk without falling. I don't care about what your books say. I don't even care what my tutors told you. This night is already perfect because I married you, falls and all." She opened her mouth to reply, but Chrom silenced her with a finger upon her lips. "Don't ever let anyone tell you are less than what you should be," he said withdrawing his hand. "You're my wife, and I love you."

Silence lingered for a moment between them, as Sumia allowed the comforting words of her husband to settle within her mind and her heart. She could think of no reply to give, except to lightly kiss his lips. Chrom returned her kiss and held it, and his hands pushed through the veil of her hair to feel the smooth surface of her back through her gown, deepening the kiss as he did so. He broke away from her only briefly to stand and help Sumia to her feet. He kissed the trails her tears had left behind before again finding her lips. When they again parted, he took her by the hand.

"Sumia, will you do me the honor of joining me tonight?" Chrom asked. It was not a custom of his motherland to ask such a question, for kings and queens of the past did not often share any words at all. However, he thought of tradition or formality no longer. All his earlier cares were, by now, forgotten.

"I will," Sumia softly and happily replied with a nod. He release her hand, and to her surprise, Chrom effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, earning a slight squeal of delight in return. He carried her the rest of the way to the bed and laid her upon it.

* * *

Later, Chrom laid upon half of the bed, breathless and weary, but undeniably and delightfully happy, far happier than he had ever been. Beads of sweat lingered upon his face, and each breath he took rose and fell in time with Sumia's. His eyes lingered upon the canopy overhead, but he could not resist looking upon his wife yet again. He smiled as the soft glow of candlelight lit her face, glistening with the salt of her brow and the tinge of red in her cheeks, which seemed as the shine of ripened fruit to him. The gentle light danced and flickered upon her bare shoulders, and as he gazed at her, she turned her eyes upon him as the candles cast light and shadows upon his strong chest. In her eyes, he saw the same love and even want he held for her reflected back at him.

As they rested, Chrom soon found even the slight distance between them too great. He bade Sumia to draw nearer, as near as she could. She did so, until he felt her skin brush against his and her legs and feet tangle with his own. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. Her hand came to rest upon his chest, and she spread her fingers against it, tracing every curve his many battles had rewarded him and every mark such battles had inflicted.

Satisfied at her presence, Chrom kissed her brow, enjoying the taste of the salt. His arm drowsily stroked her shoulder, as he looked again into her radiant eyes. Though he had said it many times before their wedding, he could not help but speak the only words he knew for such a time as this.

"I love you, Sumia," he said.

"I love you too, Chrom," Sumia replied, never leaving his eyes.

This was how they remained, listening to only the blissful rhythm of their heavy breathing. As the night wore on, Chrom watched as his wife slowly closed her eyes. He took his gaze from her, only briefly, to stare once more at the canopy of their bed. He wished to sleep as well, and he knew he should, for tomorrow, his lessons would continue. As Chrom closed his eyes, however, the voice of his wife broke the silence, prompting him to open his eyes once more. She was again staring at him, but her voice was soft, as though she could not stay awake much longer.

"Chrom," said she.

"Yes," he answered in the same tone of voice.

"Will you always be there to catch me when I fall?"

He had often expected a question such as hers from the day they had had pledged to marry. When he had thought of it then, he had taken time to craft an answer of eloquence, though he was not a master of such words. He had waited for the moment to give that answer, but as he felt the fatigue overcome him, the words he had devised no longer came to mind. He knew, however, that he should give some reply to his waiting wife, and he said the first words that his thoughts could manage.

"No, he said softly, "I can't catch you when you fall."

Before he could continue, the look in Sumia's eyes swiftly changed from a loving contentment to a spark of confusion and even offense. She moved away from him and sat up in bed, glaring at him all the while.

"What do you mean 'no'?" she asked angrily. "Do you enjoy watching me fall?"

Slowly, Chrom sat up as well. His eyes fixed themselves upon hers, while one arm wrapped around her, and his other hand lightly and lovingly stroked her cheek. A wry smile was upon his face, though it did not ease Sumia's angered scowl.

"That's not exactly what I mean," Chrom said as he caressed her shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but as he had done earlier, Chrom silenced her before she uttered even a single word. His mouth changed from a grin of slight humor to a firm and serious line. "I know the life I live is a dangerous one, Sumia," he began. "I know that yours will be as well. At the slightest moment, one of us may be taken from the other. But I swear to you, Sumia, as long as I'm alive and you stand by my side, I will never let you fall. Besides, if we stand together, then neither of us can fall in the first place"

"Then I'll do what I can to keep you from falling as well, whether in battle or even in your own house," Sumia answered, as the offense in her eyes faded away. They shared another kiss, but Chrom did not find himself content with only one. He kissed her brow once more, then her check, her neck, and finally her shoulder.

"I know you will, Sumia," he stated. "Now, go to sleep." They laid back down, with her head again resting upon his shoulder, and Chrom drew the bedcovers over them.

While his wife soon slept in a well-earned peace, Chrom still found himself remaining awake, for he was roused from earlier and as tired as he was, he could not take his eyes off her. He was glad to enjoy the sensation of each warm breath against his skin and the sight of her lying beside him. With his free hand, he took her hand from where it rested against his chest and gently brought it up to his lips to kiss her fingers. Fatigue grew upon him with every moment, and the dawn would surely come soon enough to bring whatever troubles that were to be his.

He knew he should not go without sleep. Yet, he could not help but linger awake, as he again considered the sad thought that his tutors and even the kings who had come before him had held, that this night should only be considered as mere obligation. Chrom could think of no greater error in the old traditions. He did not dwell on this thought for long, and as sleep began to overtake him, he knew he would sleep well.

Tonight, all was surely as it should be in the peaceful quiet of his chambers.

* * *

**A/N: **Quite a tale wasn't it? At first, it was more fluffy than this, but then it grew into something more serious, mostly due to some excellent suggestions from my beta. I hope you enjoyed it. As always, reviews are encouraged. Flames are not.


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